


Evolution Series

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Friendship, Hogwarts Era, The Quidditch Pitch: From Diagon Alley to Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-15
Updated: 2006-08-14
Packaged: 2018-10-26 07:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10782285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: She finds comfort in numbers and time





	1. Time

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: [](http://community.livejournal.com/7spells/profile)[**7spells**](http://community.livejournal.com/7spells/) Prompt #1. to the last syllable of recorded time  


* * *

The trip to the station takes them three hours and forty-six minutes. That includes a nine minute wait due to an accident on the motorway as they entered the city limits of London. Hermione finds comfort in numbers and time, and lets the familiarity calm her nerves. She knows that if she counts to seventy-two, it will make a minute. She counts quickly so it takes more than the standard sixty count for her to equal a minute. There are times she doesn’t have her watch, a simple round face on a leather band that she received as a birthday gift when she turned eight, so she knows the count and the beat of time because it is often an escape when she doesn‘t have a book.

The platform is crowded by the time they arrive. Hermione is excited and nervous as she walks between her parents. Her hair is neatly tied back with a ribbon, an effort that took her mother one hour and twelve minutes to accomplish. She kept track, of course, having nothing better to do as Mum brushed and twisted her mess of hair into something reasonably neat and tidy.

First impressions are important. She doesn’t usually care one whit about her hair but she doesn’t want her new classmates to make the same comments that those at her old school had often made. Here, they will not call her a bushy-haired swot or say that birds are nesting in her hair. There will not be snide teasing that hurts far more than a punch to her eye. They will not make fun of her teeth or the fact that she would rather read a book than watch boys play sports like the other girls. No, there will be none of that here. She will belong here in a way that she never managed to at her other school.

When they arrive at the train three minutes later, she is intimidated. There are so many students and they look far more capable and confident than she feels at the moment. Hermione raises her chin and her face takes on a stubborn, determined look that has managed to get her through the past few years of ridicule and awkwardness and she knows will get her through life. There is no need to be anxious. She’ll have friends now, people who laugh with her and not at her. They’ll understand her because they, too, are different.

Mum kisses her cheek and Dad kisses her forehead. They leave her and she’s alone, again. She is often alone and finds it comforting, familiar, even though she loathes solitude when it is not what she wants. Right now, she doesn’t want to be alone. Hermione stands there on the platform for six minutes as people rush past her. She hears laughter and watches children kissing their parents good-bye. It seems to her that if she steps onto the train, she will wake up and find that this is nothing more than a wonderful dream. If she hesitates long enough, it might make it real. She finally picks up her bag and boards the train.

It is mayhem and chaos. Students are rushing back and forth in all directions. They bump into her and don’t even take a moment to beg her pardon for knocking her over. They’re rude and look far too much like the students at the school she left behind. There are compartments on both sides of the train, but the majority are older students that glare at her for even daring to look in to see if there is a free seat.

“Sorry,” she mutters so many times she loses count. Numbers are tangible and, without them, she feels even more lost. Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven---it’s nearly a minute later that she reaches the middle of the train. She overhears a boy bragging about Slytherin House; it’s something familiar from the book, Hogwarts: A History, that she has read multiple times since receiving her Hogwarts letter over the summer. She looks over at him, seeing a short boy with shockingly blond, nearly white, hair, and realizes he must be a first year, too.

Hermione is so pleased at finding another first year amongst the crowd that she doesn’t hesitate to speak up and correct him when he incorrectly gives the history of Salazar Slytherin. She thinks being helpful is a way to make a friend, and this boy is better than nothing even if he sounds rude and looks smug. He sneers at her and mutters something beneath his breath that have his friends laughing at her.

This is familiar to her and she doesn’t flinch as they laugh. There is no way that she will let them know their laughter and words hurt her. She is far too used to this sort of laughter, to these sneers and insults, to let them know she actually cares. Hermione simply raises her chin so that she can look down upon _him_ and walks away. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen---she reaches up and pulls the ribbon from her hair, tossing it on the ground as she walks. She refuses to let him or his friends or anyone on this train ruin this for her. She _will_ belong here. She’ll make a place for herself whether they like it or not.

This is her life now and she’ll finally have friends and not be alone.

Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three---a door suddenly opens and a boy peers out into the hall. He looks young and scared as he hides behind the door and scans the area as if he’s looking for something. His hair is neatly combed and his face is round. “Trevor?” he whispers so quietly she can barely hear him.

“You really must speak louder if you’re calling to someone,” she informs him matter-of-factly. “The train is far too loud for such whispering.”

He looks up at her and blinks. “You’re talking to me?” he asks with what sounds like amazement.

“There’s certainly no one else here that I would be speaking to,” she says as she shifts her bag in her hand and looks at him curiously. “Who is Trevor?”

“He’s my toad,” the boy explains. “He got out somehow and now I can’t find him. Gran will be so upset with me if I’ve lost him. I have to find him, you see.”

Hermione nods, understanding about Grans and them being upset when things are lost. She looks at the boy and smiles as she offers, “I’ll help you find him.”

“You will?” He smiles then and opens the door. “Thank you. I don’t know where he might be and it’s so _crowded_. You can put your stuff here. I’m alone.”

“You’re not anymore,” she tells him as she puts her bag down and holds out her hand. “My name is Hermione Jane Granger and this is my first year at Hogwarts.”

He blinks again and shyly takes her hand. “I’m Neville Longbottom. I’m a first year, too.”

She nods. “Let’s go find your toad,” she says in what her mum calls her bossy tone but Neville doesn’t seem to mind. He grins and offers her a chocolate frog before he dutifully follows her back into the hall.

Seventy, seventy-one, seventy-two---Hermione smiles as she searches for the boy’s toad. It might not be what she had expected, might still have the snide remarks and people making fun of her, but she doesn’t care. She has a friend now and he needs her help. She’s finally found someone who is different like her and she’s no longer alone. That’s all that really matters, she decides as she starts her count over. One, two, three.  



	2. Cold

  
Author's notes:

: When the time comes, she will be ready

[**7spells**](http://community.livejournal.com/7spells/) Prompt #2. cold hands, cold feet   


* * *

The snow crunches beneath her boots as she carefully makes her way through the Forbidden Forest. Hermione frowns at the ground and whispers the charm once again, wondering why it isn’t silencing the snow. The book said it would work and she knows she has cast it properly. Charms are one of her strengths, after all, and this is too important to do incorrectly. Finally, it works and she continues on her dark path into the woods.

The forest at night is scary and fascinating. As she walks past the trees, she feels completely insignificant. They are centuries old, alive with magic, and have seen more than she will ever witness in her life. The only time she envies those with Wizarding blood, as envy is an emotion she does not bother herself with normally, is when she thinks of them living twice her life span. They will do nothing with those years while she, she would do everything. It is not fair they have something they’ve neither earned nor appreciate.

There are times she allows herself to entertains girlish thoughts of marrying Ron when she’s older, easily casting Ron in that scenario despite her knowledge that they really don’t make a great match in that way. She’s only thirteen but one must always think of the future and make plans. However, her thoughts of marriage to Ron always end abruptly when she realizes that it will be fortunate if she lives past age ninety, as her father’s family has a tendency to live to an older age, while Ron could live to see two-hundred easily.

It’s silly to be upset over something as unpredictable as death, especially considering the growing darkness in this world of magic and wizards that could result in death tomorrow should things continue to escalate, but she doesn’t _like_ the thought of Ron living another life, basically, without her; of any many living another century after she’s gone.

She does not want to become nothing more than a vague memory to the man she spends her life with and to eventually be forgotten. She wants to be remembered.

It is cold tonight and not even her thick gloves protect her hands from the chill. Her cold toes curl in her socks as she steps deeper into the Forbidden Forest. The castle is sleeping behind her, everyone tucked safely in their beds, very few giving any thought to those lying petrified in the hospital ward. They’re only Muggleborns, after all, so why lose sleep if there is not a threat to one’s self?

The number of Muggleborns may be increasing every year, but the majority of students are half-bloods with a smaller amount of Purebloods due to the mixing of bloodlines. Hermione has studied the statistics, of course, and knows there are very few true Pureblood families remaining. They are all dying out and only those who wish to mix their blood, taint it with a marriage to a half-blood will eventually survive. People refuse to see facts and listen to logic. It frustrates her more than nearly anything.

_Mudblood_. Since Draco Malfoy called her that name, she has withdrawn into her books to research and analyze. He says the word but there are many in this school who think it, even those with a Muggle parent. Those with pleasant smiles and who call themselves friends care more than they act. If it came down to them or one with inferior, in their mind, blood, they will choose what they know. It isn’t safe to believe any differently. Nothing is really safe anymore and she knows, somehow, that it will just get worse in the upcoming years.

There are very few people that Hermione trusts now. This world has made her see how important trust truly is, what it means to rely on someone else to possibly protect you, and she knows there aren’t a handful of students in this school who would step forward if she were attacked for nothing more than being the daughter of two Muggles. She sees beyond the masks of friendliness and insincere words, though they will never know she doubts them. It is to her advantage to remain seemingly oblivious to such things.

The boots she is wearing do not protect her feet from the cold damp snow. She shivers as she finally arrives at her destination. It is dark and the pale glow from the half-moon above is her only light. She doesn’t dare cast a _Lumos_ as she walks for fear of being seen. She has good instincts, thankfully, and spent many summer evenings camping with her parents so she knows how to listen for her path. Now, though, she is here and she knows she is safe.

She kneels on the ground in the small clearing and removes the book she has kept held tightly against her chest. There is only a small amount of doubt in her gaze as she glances behind her into the thick trees as if someone will catch her and send her far away. The book is dangerous and her heart races slightly as she finally whispers, “ _Lumos_.”

The pages are old and weathered with age. Her fingers grow even more cold as she opens the book and stares at the words. She doesn’t know how she found it, but a part of her believes it somehow found her. Ginny was studying with her and there was a whisper in Hermione’s ear, a soft tempting voice that lured her down the darkest aisles of the library until she found it hidden behind a stack of texts. The magic, darker than any she’s encountered, was such that it shocked her when she first touched it but she didn’t resist the voice that urged her to take it and hide it.

This world is starting to fall apart. She was only thirteen and a second year, but she was aware enough to know that things started with a few loose pebbles before there was eventually an avalanche. When that happens, as she is sure it will one day, she will not have to trust others to protect her. She will be ready to protect herself, to protect the defenseless others who will be shocked to discover they are considered nothing more than a novelty or an inconvenience by the majority of those in this world, even those with Muggle parents.

When it comes time to defend herself, Hermione will show them all just what a Muggleborn is capable of and then they will all know who is stronger and more powerful. She will never be forgotten.


	3. Power

  
Author's notes: **[**7spells**](http://community.livejournal.com/7spells/) Prompt #3:** the puppet master  
 **Summary:** Absolute power corrupts absolutely  


* * *

The realization that Voldemort had arranged every detail of the Potter’s deaths in such a way that it would also destroy Sirius Black was nauseating. The very idea of someone hating anything so much that he plotted a way to hurt as many of his enemies as possible just disgusted her. How could anyone hate people they didn’t even know? Hermione wasn’t unaware of power and manipulation. She was fourteen, after all, and had spent her years prior to Hogwarts often reading her father’s texts on history.

Her father had a keen interest in military events so she had a rough understanding of how war worked and the knowledge that only a few people actually had control and power. Everyone else, the soldiers and medical personnel, they simply followed orders. There was always somebody giving the orders, however, and that person could easily become intoxicated by the power and lose sight of everything else.

She read the texts from the library on the Grindewald war and the Voldemort war because she knew that history had a way of repeating itself. Stories were whispered about Voldemort and she listened intently. If he were a threat again one day, they needed to understand him to fight him. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. That thought stayed in her mind as she read the texts.

Voldemort was formidable. He was intelligent, rarely made mistakes, ruthless and focused, and he loved power. It was the latter that had eventually led to his downfall, she believed. If one loses sight of anything but their own supremacy, they are not prepared for something as pure as faith and love, cannot properly battle those who have nothing but a belief they are right and are willing to risk their lives for those beliefs, and being caught unaware can lead to defeat.

It was thinking such thoughts that made her look at the other side, too; at their side, if you will. Where Voldemort controlled and manipulated his followers, she had to wonder if Dumbledore had done the same. He was always ready with an encouraging smile and a lemon drop, but was that merely a façade for a cunning man who craved power and control, just possibly not in the same way as Voldemort? She hated doubting their headmaster, but she had learned nothing from Sirius Black’s story if she didn’t realize that trust was important and often misplaced.

If the threat from Voldemort became real, if Harry’s life was in more danger than it was currently, he needed her to be suspicious. Harry was far too trusting in this world and looked up to Dumbledore in a way that would make him easily manipulated if the Headmaster had such a thirst for power. Hermione would have to make sure Harry stayed safe and didn’t trust the wrong person like his parents had done in the past.

With her and Ron by his side, he would defeat any threat. She was certain of that in a way that was similar to knowing the sky was blue and that snow was cold. She would study the texts available and learn the mind of a madman if necessary to give Harry an advantage over Voldemort or anyone else that tried to manipulate him. If he listened to her guidance and allowed her and Ron to support him, he would persevere.

Voldemort had used a close friend against the Potters and against Sirius Black. He might make such an attempt against Harry if he did, indeed, rise again as the whispers hinted. It might prove pointless to worry about something that might never happen. Harry wasn’t that concerned and Ron certainly seemed to give it no thought, but that was her purpose: to think of things neither of them ever would.

Harry did not need to know that she had often used her time turner this year to search the library for historical reports from the Voldemort war or that she had a notebook full of attack strategies that he had used at one time. He’d just worry that she was overreacting to the possibility of danger despite what happened last year, when she had spent months frozen in the hospital ward because of one of Voldemort’s cunning schemes. Harry didn’t need the worry of such things until it became a reality.

Meanwhile, she would continue her research secretly. If nothing else, she had a love for history and war so it was enjoyable to read how the wizarding world compared to the Muggle world when it came to such matters. The knowledge that power corrupted regardless of magic and blood was somewhat comforting because it was a weakness, and a weakness could always be used against someone.

Of course, Harry had a stronger weakness because he loved. That meant, like his parents, there were people close to him that could be used against him, either in manipulation by Harry’s enemies or in their loss hurting him in a way a simple hex never could. It was also a strength, though, so she hoped he never lost sight of what was truly important.

There was a part of her that hoped she _was_ being paranoid. She had a horrible habit of becoming obsessed with projects and losing focus on other things so it was possible that this was another such endeavor. It was disturbing to study the mind of the man who had once been Tom Riddle and to see through the information she could gather how he had changed. His growth from a student at Hogwarts into a manipulative power-hungry madman was frightening, in a way. Even worse was the knowledge that the use of madman was inaccurate because he was far too intelligent and cunning to truly be mad.

It was probably silly to worry about Harry having to face such an enemy. Still, she would do her research and be prepared just in case. Everyone said that Voldemort was well and truly gone, that he’d not rise again like something from a horror novel, and that it was all over that fateful night in October so many years ago. It would be so easy to believe that everyone was right.

However, Hermione knew from years of reading war history that there were many times that everyone had been wrong.  



	4. Chaos

  
Author's notes: **[**7spells**](http://community.livejournal.com/7spells/) Prompt #4:** Disheveled  
 **Summary:** Nothing will ever be the same  


* * *

After it’s all over, Hermione lies in her bed unable to sleep. The sheets are tangled around her legs and the room is too warm and then too cold and then too warm once again. Her heart is still racing and her body is stretched tightly as if it might snap at any moment. She is alert and ready, her gaze looking from the ceiling to scan the shadows of the room and then back again. Her hair is wet from her shower, surrounding her face in a wild disarray with a few errant locks annoyingly get caught between her lips.

When she tries to sleep, she feels even more discontent and anxious. She closes her eyes and sees Harry with dirt on his face and his clothes askew and his hair even messier than normal. She sees Ron looking bewildered and scared beneath the brave veneer. She sees people running and hears their screams of fear and, in some cases, pain. She sees the Dark Mark lighting the sky like a beacon to those with darkness in their souls.

The reality of being in an attack is far different than she ever expected. In her mind, it was more orderly and people were prepared. Now, she knows the confusion, the fear, the uncertainty that was present all around her. She feels as though she didn’t do anything, as if she should have done something to help, but she’s not sure what she could have done. There had been no time to think of spells she had learned that might help. She had been so caught up in the chaos of the attack that she’d been unable to do anything as she’d planned in her mind should this situation occur. She knows, now, that she wasn’t ready.

She has a list of spells neatly written in her notebook. She knows them well and can perform them effortlessly. Harmless magic, really, but if it is used in a certain way it can provide adequate defense and as well as protection. There is darker magic, of course, some of which she knows even though those spells are not neatly written beside the others. During this attack, however, she hadn’t been able to think of anything except getting out alive.

Failure is not a word that Hermione accepts. It is for other people, perhaps, but never for herself. She never wants to hear it used against her, never wants to admit defeat, and refuses to believe there is anything, within reason, that she can’t eventually master with time, patience, and determination. Flying has been her only true failure, though she will not consider it such a thing because she knows one day she will confront that fear, as it is fear keeping her from succeeding at that task, and she will prove triumphant. She looks at failure as a means of learning what not to do ever again, to prepare herself to refocus, to determine what she needs to do to master a task.

Her failure tonight during the attack on the camp has left her shaken and feeling helpless. She hates that feeling. It drives her to get out of bed and open a text and learn the spells until she can recite them under the most extreme circumstances because she will never allow herself to be caught in such a way again. Instead, she lies in bed and thinks of Harry and Ron, of her own disheveled appearance when she looked in the mirror, of what went wrong with the many plans in her mind in case something like this happened.

Hermione decides that actually experiencing this kind of attack is something one can’t fathom until it happens. On paper, it is organized and things happen logically with an order that she finds comfortable and doesn’t fear. The reality is nothing like that. The utter pandemonium, the shrieks and screams, the magic so thick in the air, the surprise; these are all things that are impossible to anticipate until one is right in the midst of them. Now she knows, though, and will be ready if it happens again.

The Dark Mark flying in the sky above the camp is a vision that she knows will not fade away. One can never forget the first time they see evil. The mark, even more so than the men and possibly women running about in dark robes and masks, is a symbol intended to bring terror and fear into the hearts of those who see it.

Logically, Hermione knows it is foolish to give such power to the mark. It is like the name used for Voldemort and should mean nothing if one doesn’t allow it to scare them, but it is difficult to see it and not fear what it means. People have been injured, some have died, and she tries not to think what might have happened to her if Draco Malfoy, of all people, hadn’t warned them in time.

The mark means more than people wearing frightening masks to scare people. It is a symbol of Voldemort’s impending return; she knows this despite what others might say. It represents the beginning of something she has expected but hoped would never occur. It is a warning that Harry’s life, dear sweet Harry who deserves only happiness for what he has suffered in his life, is now in even more danger and that nothing will ever be the same.

Harry seems to know this, though he’s not spoken his fears aloud. She saw it in his eyes afterwards, so old despite his youth, and she knows he will need her more than ever before now. Her failure at the camp has shown her she’s not ready yet. They were lucky this time but might not be so lucky another.

It is her responsibility, unspoken amongst them, to learn the spells that will be helpful, to do the research necessary, and to teach them to Harry and Ron when the time is right. Ron is brilliant with plans, far more than she is, though she’d be loathe to admit it, and she knows he will step up when it is necessary. He lacks confidence in his abilities and it is a struggle for him to overcome his doubts, but they all have insecurities and she has faith he will be ready, prepared in his own way, should the time come.

There is something in the air, subtle and unnoticeable, that won’t let her sleep yet. The disorder of earlier has left her feeling irritated, in a way. She thrives on organization and logic so the chaos and madness of the unexpected attack has her out of sorts and unable to calm down. There are too many thoughts in her head, too many plans and worries, too much information vying for attention.

She hates not knowing what to expect.


	5. Trust

  
Author's notes: **[**7spells**](http://community.livejournal.com/7spells/) Prompt #5:** A broken circle  
 **Summary:** Trust is such a precious thing  


* * *

Trust is such a precious thing. Hermione doesn’t understand breaking the trust of others unless it’s a dangerous situation and there is no other choice. She knows she herself betrayed Harry’s trust in third year when she told about his broom but it was in his best interest, she had thought at the time, so in her eyes, at least, it was excusable and forgivable. This betrayal goes far beyond that and isn’t something she can ever forgive.

Marietta broke all of their trust. They allowed her to become part of their group, taught her along with the others, and trusted her to keep their secret. Sneak doesn’t quite suffice as an appropriate name for someone who would break the circle of trust but it’s adequate. Dumbledore’s Army is one of the best accomplishments in Hermione’s life at Hogwarts. It has been well-planned, well-handled, and they now have others who are ready to help if things ever become worse.

She doesn’t hate Marietta for betraying them. Hate is a horrible emotion, one she doesn’t even feel when considering someone like Parkinson or even Voldemort himself. If she allows hate to enter her soul, it will never leave and she’ll become no better than _them_. No, she pities Marietta for not seeing beyond, for not realizing what she has jeopardized with her foolish decision. The hex is a reminder of her betrayal, Hermione thinks, and it’s only fair that Marietta be reminded of that every day because trust is something you don’t simply toss away once you’ve received it.

 

Umbridge is a vile woman who comes closer to bringing forth hate than anyone else Hermione knows. Hermione hates what Voldemort represents, hates his plans for the world, hates everything he stands for but she cannot hate _him_ without bringing herself to the level of him and his followers who hate an entire group based on nothing more than blood. Umbridge, however, tempts her to hate, and that scares Hermione in ways no one else would quite understand.

This entire year has been stressful. Harry is so angry at everyone, it seems, and it takes all of her patience to remain at his side and look after him. He needs her even if he’s too caught up in his emotions to realize that yet. She worries for him more than anyone else; not because he’s Voldemort’s target but because he’s her Harry. She worries for Ron, for Ginny, for dear Neville, and dozens of others, but Harry causes the most anxiety and has since they met.

How can she look after him if he refuses to listen to her? She offers advice and he snorts and shrugs away her words. He’s excelled at teaching and leading Dumbledore’s Army but refuses to see how truly important it is for others to be ready. There are times she thinks he actually gets it, that he sees beyond their little world of Hogwarts Castle and realizes what is happening beyond their walls, but then he overreacts to something small and she is left wondering if he’ll ever truly _see_.

She partially blames Umbridge for Harry’s current behavior. There’s a part of her that knows Harry will eventually come back, that this emotional and odd being that her best friend has become will get past his mood swings and then it will just be Harry again. She gets annoyed with him more now than ever before and has no qualms telling him what she thinks when the situation calls for it, but she’s tired of having to keep him together, in a way, and looks forward to a day when he’ll actually listen to her and Ron and let them back in, completely.

She spends her free time trying to find a way to get rid of Umbridge, to find a way to get Dumbledore back, to defend themselves against the bloody Inquisitor Squad, to make sure they are prepared for anything. Cedric Diggory’s death proves how little life means to Voldemort and shows that they will, indeed, be fighting for their lives if they ever face him or his Death Eaters.

No, if is the wrong word. Hermione has always been a realist and knows they eventually _will_ face the Dark Lord and his followers, in a far more intimate setting than the Quidditch World Cup. If she’s being completely honest, the reason she encouraged the idea of Dumbledore’s Army, the reason she has been determined to teach others spells that will help protect them against attack in even a small way, is so that there is someone to defend those who will need help. She and Ron, they’ll be right beside Harry regardless of his protests or whatever may come. They will die keeping him safe because that’s the bond of their friendship.

However, that leaves no one to worry about the others, the ones who will be shocked at an attack, who don’t believe or choose to remain out of things as if they’ll have that choice if a real war officially begins. Neutrality is a luxury that most will never have and she wishes they’d realize this before it’s too late. Neville, Ginny, Luna…she can trust them to take care of as many people as they can should the need arise. That frees her up to focus more on Harry, though she’ll never stop worrying until this is all over, whether it ends with Voldemort’s defeat or her own death.

At the moment, though, there's nothing to do but wait for something to happen. Hermione can feel it in the air, an energy that is restless and unpredictable, and she hates that she can’t predict what it is and prepare appropriately. When the time comes, they’ll be ready. They have to be because there will be no second chances, no opportunities to practice the spell again, just a struggle for their lives and a fight to avoid death.

She has spent time researching and hopes to continue meeting in secret, if possible, to repair the damage that has been done with their discovery. Regardless of Marietta’s betrayal and Harry’s erratic behavior, she is pleased by the progress they have made during their meetings, even though she knows it is not nearly enough to properly be ready for whatever may be lurking on the horizon.

Hopefully it is enough for now.


	6. Shades

  
Author's notes: **[](http://community.livejournal.com/7spells/profile)[**7spells**](http://community.livejournal.com/7spells/) Prompt #6:** Five shades of white  
 **Summary:** They say that death comes in threes  


* * *

They say that death comes in threes but Hermione doesn’t believe it’s going to end with just three.

Diggory’s death was a shock, a rude awakening and realization that nothing was safe anymore. She would be lying if she said Sirius’ death was a surprise. He was rash, reckless, and far too unstable to survive in this turbulent time. His manner of death had been a surprise, though, and she’d honestly thought he would live longer. And Dumbledore makes three; however, she fears it's just getting started.

The most recent death leaves her unable to sleep easily and constantly lost in thought. It is worse than any other if only for the fact that it leaves them without guidance. She never fully trusted their Headmaster, but he was a good leader and formidable opponent for Voldemort. Without him, she fears what will happen to the Order of the Phoenix and what it means for Harry.

Their talks have become a nightly habit. They often sneak out of the Burrow this summer to lie together. They give each other strength, just as they always have, and she wonders sometimes if she will ever be able to sleep without the warm press of her best friends’ bodies around her. It’s platonic, of course, despite the strange energy that exists between her and Ron and that has confused her for several years now and despite the feeling of coming home that she experiences every time Harry hugs her.

They are her boys and always will be regardless of what direction life may eventually take them. Their relationship transcends the neat tidy categories of friendship, lust, and love. They just are and she doesn’t question it anymore because she knows she will never truly understand the logic of what makes them this way.

Harry is convinced that Snape betrayed them all. He’s almost smug regarding the confirmation that Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater yet also confesses to them late at night as they lie together on a blanket beneath the stars that he doesn’t think Malfoy is evil. It confuses Harry, the notion that there are shades to life, as he always sees things in black and white. Of course, Ron refuses to listen to any defense of Malfoy, insisting he’s an evil bastard spawn of a Death Eater father and that’s that. She’s not certain about Malfoy and knows only time will tell where his true loyalty might lie.

There is doubt in Harry’s mind regarding Malfoy’s motivations but he refuses to consider possible reasons for Snape’s actions. Hermione has never seen the world in black and white, though she does tend to see things with her own rigid sense of right and wrong. There are shades to everything, she tells Harry and Ron in soft whispers as she stares at the moon. Human behavior cannot be predicted; motivations and feelings change things and blur the lines of colors. Everyone is gray, she explains in a tone that makes them listen and think, and it just depends on the person whether they have more shades of black or more shades of white.

Hermione doesn’t believe that Snape is a traitor. She has spent years studying tactics, strategy, and human behavior. She has no idea why he killed Dumbledore but years of suspicion and distrust of the majority of people around her has left her with a belief that Snape, while rude and very much drawn in darker shades of gray, is worthy of at least a small amount of trust. Ron may be a better strategist than she’ll ever be, constantly defeating her even at chess, but she is reasonably decent at observing people and their behavior.

For instance, she knows that Lavender actually cared for Ron and that he never connected on any level beyond snogging. She hopes Lavender realizes that Justin fancies her, though it may be too late since rumor has it that Hogwarts will not reopen this year. She also knows that Harry’s feelings for Ginny are strong and predominantly physical. They might eventually become more, certainly, but she’s doubtful they’ll ever make a true go of it. She knows that Neville is stronger than he realizes and predicts that he will not meekly remain at home when he is needed elsewhere. She doesn’t doubt he’ll be standing beside them when the time comes. As for understanding herself, observation is skewed by experience, and, to her frustration, she can't say what she thinks about her own behavior.

The wedding is next week. She has six days to convince Harry and Ron that there is more to what happened with Dumbledore’s death than they are willing to see. There is a part of her that thinks they can use him, if necessary, and shouldn’t be blind to all their options once their search begins. She tries to use terms they’ll understand and relate to as she explains the various possible theories for Snape killing Dumbledore, and she thinks they might finally be listening. It’s difficult, though, because they’ve been kept away from things that might be helpful in explaining what happened. She has to try, though, not because she trusts Snape or even believes without any doubts that he’d help them if it came down to it but because they have to look at things in shades to truly be prepared to fight.

They are leaving the night of the wedding. Ron thinks it will be the best time to sneak away because everyone will be caught up in the excitement of the ceremony and probably pissed off their arses, in his words. The entire idea of going off on their own is scary. All three of them admit to fear and worry, but they try not to dwell on the worst outcomes possible because this is what they must do. There is no other choice and they know it.

She’s not sure they’re ready and spends free time making notes of spells and charms from an advanced book she borrowed from the library at Hogwarts. She didn’t steal the book, of course, as she does plan to send it back eventually, but it has things they have not yet learned that might prove useful.

Ron has visited the twins a couple of times under the pretense of seeing what new items they’re working on, which isn’t really a lie as the twins are very clever. He has come back with several borrowed or gifted items, which might be of use, even if that use is not yet clear. He says he thinks the twins know he’s taking things so it’s not stealing if they turn a blind eye.

Fred and George, more than any other, seem to realize something is happening and Hermione is no longer that surprised to find a new item they’ve just been testing on the bedside table when she wakes in the mornings. They know she’ll not say anything whereas Ron might ask them what it does or how it works without thinking. If they can deny knowing anything, it will make it easier once the wedding is over and people discover the three of them have left.

Harry has told them every detail he can remember from his sessions with Dumbledore and the information he knows about horcruxes. She doesn’t admit it, but she finds the concept both fascinating and scary. He has also taught them the things Dumbledore taught him, as well as he can, being patient in a way that shows he has grown up during the past year.

Their first stop after leaving the Burrow is going to be Grimmauld Place. They want to go there so Hermione can raid the library; this may be the only access she’ll have to books of dark magic and that might contain useful information for their search. Harry tells them he has a feeling there is something they need at Grimmauld Place and they trust his instincts. They just go in before dawn and be gone before anyone at the Burrow even realizes they’ve left.

Harry whimpers in his sleep, his body twitching as he has another nightmare. She reaches over and gently brushes her fingers through his hair as she whispers softly that it’s okay, that everything is going to be okay until he calms down. Ron snores beside them, his foot jerking slightly as he sleeps. Hermione looks at the crescent moon above until her eyes droop and she finally feels sleepy. As she drifts off to sleep, she thinks of horcuxes and Harry’s victory with her and Ron by his side.


	7. Fate

  
Author's notes:

**[**7spells**](http://community.livejournal.com/7spells/) Prompt #7:** Instrumental  
 **Summary:** This is how it’s meant to be

OMG! I actually finished the [](http://community.livejournal.com/7spells/profile)[**7spells**](http://community.livejournal.com/7spells/). A big thank you to those of you that have read the Gen fic. This was a nice challenge to myself and I appreciate your support and comments! ♥   


* * *

It seems as if every moment of Hermione’s life has been lived to prepare for this moment. It’s a foolish thing to think, she knows, but she looks at Harry and Ron across the flames of their small fire and knows it’s true. This is why she was given the gift of magic, why she has always had an interest in obscure subjects, and why she was brought into their lives and they into hers. Her strange interests have saved them repeatedly, as they have saved her, and the symbiotic nature of the relationship is clear.

Divination and the like are subjects she finds contemptuous, at best. There is no logic, no concrete evidence to support theories and predictions, and she doesn’t trust anything that isn’t tangible when it comes to such matters. However, the last nine months have proven to her that there might possibly be something to the theory of fate. She spends a lot of time thinking back over the past seven years, remembering that day she first got her Hogwarts letter and then the train ride where she met Neville and so many other things that seemed so insignificant at the time but have proven far more important as the years have passed by.

There is a hint of egotism in the belief that her purpose in life thus far has been to help Harry with this fight, to be at his side during this war, and to provide him with the support and knowledge he needs to win. Hermione doesn’t consider it arrogance to know, in her heart, that this is how it was meant to be because she can’t imagine any other life. The idea of not being important, of not having a part to play in Harry’s struggle, of not being significant in this war isn’t even something she can fathom.

It’s nearly over. The last horcrux has finally been destroyed. There is a vivid scar, testament to its destruction, on Ron’s jaw, and it seems to glow in the firelight. They are tired, so very tired, and weary from the search that has led them all over Britain and into parts of Europe. Harry’s scar has been throbbing mercilessly for months and his lack of sleep is evident in the dark circles beneath his eyes. He only sleeps when they hold him and he can relax long enough in the security of their embrace to rest.

She sees articles in the Daily Prophet and has lost count of the death toll. They try to remain distant from the war so they don’t lose sight of their goal, but it’s difficult when they catch a glimpse of a familiar name or business. She cries at night when it’s too dark for Ron and Harry to see. They need her to remain strong and she is strong for them. In the darkness when they are sleeping, she allows herself to be weak, to mourn those who have given their lives fighting for their convictions.

Things are becoming increasingly tense as the time draws near. She is worried for them, far more worried than she has ever been, but she can’t lose her focus because it’s too dangerous to be driven by emotion in these circumstances. She has to remain logical and cool, prepared to kill or to die to keep Harry and Ron safe, and to know that each breath could be her last and not have any regrets about that knowledge.

In her case, there isn’t much conflict in this decision. Her parents are safe. She’s not seen them in over a year but she knows they are hidden in America and have no idea the danger she faces daily. Ron, however, is torn between supporting Harry and seeking revenge for the death of his father and Percy. George is injured, too, according to a report in the paper, but they can’t risk the danger of communicating with the Weasleys to find out more information. It’s frustrating them all, to be cut off from people.

It’s necessary, though, and that knowledge has kept them on task. It will be over within a day. Hermione looks at the sky and wonders if she’ll ever see the moon again or if her life will be taken tomorrow when they face Voldemort. She has known since the battle at the Department of Mysteries that she might die at any time. The curse she experienced at the hands of Antonin Dolohov ensured that she would never think things would be easy, or without risk.

Death is a constant risk due to her friendship with Harry as well as her intelligence and bloodline. She came to terms with that realization years ago and now looks at death as a necessary part of life. She doesn't fear it; there is no place for fear when fighting, she has learned, so she locks away her fears into a corner of her mind once her wand is in hand and it’s time to fight.

Harry is going to succeed, though. For once in her life, Hermione is being optimistic instead of realistic. He will defeat Voldemort, she believes in her heart, though she does not know at what cost. She refuses to believe that he or Ron will die yet she accepts the idea of her own death as a possibility. Both Harry and Ron are resigned to the idea they all might die before this is over, but they plan to take Voldemort with them if it comes to that. She can’t believe the last years have been wasted and pointless so she has to believe that Harry will win. The idea that they’ve been through all this, that Harry has suffered so much, for no reason is too disheartening to even consider.

They will stand together tomorrow and face Voldemort. It seems somewhat anticlimactic, in a way, as there is no epic battle, and it will, hopefully, be a small attack with the three of them against him and his closest guards. Their plan, one they think will actually be successful, is to catch him unaware. However, they have written letters to their loved ones. They’ll owl them to Neville in the morning, to keep for them just in case they don’t make it, with strict instructions for them to be sent out upon their death. Of course, if they fail all hope will be lost so, really, they _can’t_ fail. It’s just not a possibility.

She’s as ready as she can be for whatever they might face. Many years ago she read spells from a book she was never supposed to see, learning them in the glow of a _lumos_ and she knows that the magic, darker than most they face, is still there in her mind. It’s ready to be used if necessary, at her disposal should she feel the need, and she’s aware that using it may require a sacrifice. She’s ready to make that trade if necessary just as she is prepared to step in front of Ron or Harry to save them.

Harry finally stands up and sighs as he looks at the sky, possibly enjoying his own last look at the moon. Ron douses the fire and it becomes dark far too suddenly. Hermione pulls her jumper closer around her to keep out the early spring chill as she gets to her feet. They don’t speak, no longer really needing words to communicate amongst the three of them, and the silence is comforting.

Ron lies down first, taking up the most room on their pile of blankets. She is next, settling against him and opening her arms for Harry, who joins them and moves close, shaking slightly beneath her palms as she hugs him. She wants to stroke his hair and tell him that it’s okay, that it will all be okay, but the silence and the feel of their arms is enough to tell him that now.

She doesn’t know what tomorrow holds, how things will end, and who will survive. Hermione only knows that they will do their best, that they will bravely fight for each other, for what they believe, and that they will be stronger together. In the end, that’s all that really matters.

This is how it’s meant to be.  



End file.
